


A Dream of Spring

by Papergirlpapertown



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones
Genre: Canon Compliant, Daenerys becoming queen of Valyria, F/M, I can't write jonsa well i'm sorry, Jonsa babies - Freeform, Multi, Sansa Stark Queen in the north, a fix it fic for all of us, and a lot of happiness for daenerys, and also some happiness for bran because he really just get shafted this whole season, fluff with a bit of angst, mostly - Freeform, with some jonsa and gendrya thrown in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 12:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18894523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papergirlpapertown/pseuds/Papergirlpapertown
Summary: A year after the death of Daenerys Targaryen, the Starks bloom.(a fix-it fic that's canon compliant with a sprinkle of magic thrown in and bonus Daenerys)





	A Dream of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> I want to make it clear that this fic is meant to be read as sort of an epilogue to the series and a love note to some of my favorite characters. I am one of the few who loved the series finale but hated what led up to it and honestly believe Benioff and Weiss should be fired, but I digress.  
> If you like this piece, I will also be writing a season eight fix it fic in the near future that undoes everything of the past three episodes.  
> Please leave kudos and a review if you enjoy the story!

ARYA STARK  
The rocking of the boat soothed her awake. A year on the sea and they still hadn’t found what was West of Westeros, but when her grey eyes locked on the pale beast beside her, she smiled carelessly. His blue eyes fluttered awake and Arya tried not to laugh at the frightened look in his eyes.  


“Is there a storm we need to be worrying about?” Gendry’s husky voice asked, his eyes growing wide at the continued rocking of the boat.  


Arya chuckled as she snuggled closer to her Bull. “I would’ve thought sea storms were something you’d weathered. Considering you rowed all the way back to King’s Landing from Dragonstone.”  


“That’s not exactly my favorite memory to relive” Gendry rolled his eyes at her sarcastic comment, “I prefer to recall everything after that” a brief smile tugging on his lips.  
“You prefer to think about White Walkers and Mad Queens?” She leaned in to kiss his lips once again, remembering the last time they had kissed ashore. She had expected him to say goodbye, expected him to ask her to be a lady once again. She didn’t expect him to go half insane deciding to leave Storm’s End to follow her to the end of the world.  


“You may be leaving, but I’m coming with you. I don’t want to be a Lord, not while I know you’re out there alone. You asked me to be your family, so that’s what I’m being”  


“I prefer to think of you” Gendry whispered in between kisses and breaths.  
She moved in closer, grasping at the newly grown head of hair and the hem of his shirt. She could feel the muscle underneath, the short breaths he elicited as they moved against one another. Her lips turned upward, and she pushed him back on the bed, removing her own nightshirt before settling down on his hips. She leaned in once again, and a call came from above.  


“Land ho!”  


The two paused and scrambled to the door, trying to pull on presentable clothes. Arya raced up the stairs of her cabin before walking out into the streaming sunlight, the blue skies seeming almost unnaturally saturated. She shielded her eyes before the small dot on the horizon came into her vision.  
She wanted to laugh, to sing to whatever entity above like Sansa had all those years ago.  


“Sail for it” Arya commanded, a wide smile spreading across her lips.  
Gendry joined her, his brow furrowed. “What do you think it is?”  
“Whatever’s West of Westeros.”  


The boat anchored on a small beach, and Arya’s feet sank deeper and deeper into the sand as she made her way through the newly discovered land. She resisted the urge to jump and laugh like she had when she was a girl. The beach sat below a towering grassy mountain bigger than she had imagined. So many walls to climb, so many tunnels to explore. She smirked as an old memory popped into her head, of a curious girl in the former Red Keep chasing cats to please her sword master.  


“It’s beautiful” Gendry commented, his gaze drawing itself toward the trees that sat where the beach ended. His eyes floating upward as new species flew above him. “Do you think Queen Nymeria felt this way when she discovered Dorne?”  
Arya nodded, breathing out a small “better”  


The two embraced on the shores of the newly discovered world, ready to explore. Together.

BRAN STARK  
He knew it had been his destiny since the beginning. To watch over the people of Westeros as Tyrion Lannister sat by his side. It wasn’t what he wanted, but since becoming the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran Stark didn’t really get a say anymore.  
He sat in the Throne room, watching as the masons rebuilt the stone keep that had fallen a year ago. The new devices Sam had created were increasing the work tenfold, and a small smile crossed his face at the thought of his new moniker.  


Bran the Rebuilder they had dubbed him. A more fitting name than Bran the Broken, the young boy whispered in his head. But the Three-Eyed Raven never cared much for titles in the first place.  
“Your Grace” Tyrion spoke from behind him,  
Bran wheeled around to face the dwarf who had been repenting for his sins of last year. The smallfolk still hadn’t forgotten what the Dragon Queen had done to them, but Tyrion was beginning to see the error of his old ways long before any riots could break out.  
“Yes Tyrion?” Bran asked, his tone remaining still as it always had been since those years beyond the north. He had forgotten who Hodor was to Brandon Stark, but the Three-Eyed Raven had never forgotten his sacrifice.  
“A representative has been sent from the Riverlands, they want to apologize for the recent outcry and discuss what would be needed to stay a part of the kingdom.”  


Bran nodded at the statement, already knowing the outcome. The Riverlands were weak, always needing to be protected and guarded from invading forces. They were in the middle of the Kingdom after all. And the recent riots had caused some lords to wonder if separating was a good idea. After all, the Seven Kingdoms had become Five with the recent withdrawal of both the North and the Iron Islands, and in order to stay a cohesive unit, the Riverlands needed a proposal. A way to secure the protection of the crown.  
“Call the Council” Bran suggested. “We will discuss it then”  
“Pardon me Your Grace,” Tyrion interrupted, “But she would prefer to discuss it with you directly.”  
Bran nodded, ready to face the last person in his former life he had left behind.  


Meera Reed appeared from the shadows, dressed in the same wildling clothes he had last seen her in, and Brandon Stark of Winterfell regained his brain. Nerves lit themselves up with happiness, and a true smile broke out on Bran’s face as the girl he had harbored a small crush on approached him.  


“Meera” He whispered, the twelve-year-old boy returning to the front lines while the Raven took a backseat.  


“Your Grace” She responded, bending the knee politely before bringing her concern to him. And he remained the twelve-year-old boy who had imagined himself married to the girl who had toted him all the way Beyond the Wall. The girl who refused to leave him alone. The girl who had sacrificed everything, even her own brother, for him. The girl the Raven had turned away.  


“Meera Reed.” Bran whispered once again, in awe of the curly haired woman standing above him. She gave him a shy look and the Raven knew there was nothing he could do to stop Brandon Stark from giving this girl whatever she needed.  


“We only wish for the Crown’s secure protection, and my liege lord has sent me here to offer up our coin and a pick of the fine women of our houses as a bride.” Meera stated in a tone not unlike the Raven’s.  
“That is a very generous offer,” Tyrion jumped in, “But a bride may not be necessary seeing as—”  


“You” The Raven spoke, granting the wishes of his current host. “I want to marry you”  
Meera’s bright eyes grew wide, and Bran could feel Tyrion’s stare at his back.  
“Your Grace, you do not need to marry” Tyrion whispered, “We elect rulers now, the only reason you would need a bride—”  


“I don’t need one” Bran spoke, meeting Tyrion’s surprised gaze, “I want one. We will offer our Protection to the Riverlands whenever they may need it” He turned toward Meera, “No additional cost except the gold. But if you wish, I would like to marry you Meera.”  


Meera stood in the center of the throne room, speechless and staring at the man in front of her. The pause seemed like forever, and Brandon Stark began to worry whether or not she would want to sacrifice for him again and he braced his mind for a return to the abyss, never reappearing again.  
“Yes” Meera responded, “I will.”  


Bran’s teeth broke free as butterflies exploded in the cavity of his chest. Meera embraced the newly crowned King and the Raven smiled as his host finally got his deepest wish granted. 

 

 

SANSA STARK  
Laughter sprung up from the courtyard of Winterfell, the children of the North reenacting the famous tale of Aemon the Dragonknight, a story Sansa loved in her youth. Stories that she hardly ever thought of since coming home.  


A wail came from the wooden cradle beside her and she scooped her own child in her own arms as the two of them overlooked the newly repaired courtyard beneath them.  
“See those children down there?” She spoke to the child beside her, “That will be you someday. You won’t have to be King for quite some time.”  
Her boy slowly calmed down as Sansa began to whisper stories she had lived through. The Battle of Winterfell, The Siege of King’s Landing, the election of Bran the Rebuilder. Little Theon would have no worry about Night Kings or Dragons when he grew up, and Sansa would see to that personally if she had to. Her child will never have to endure what his namesake had to. Not if she had any say in it.  


She stared at the small child in her arms, bright red curls starting to make their appearance and grey eyes finding themselves staring at the woman holding him. Her son had the strange habit of making all of her problems go away when they were together. It was just her and her child, and she briefly wondering if her mother ever felt this way when she was holding any of her siblings.  


“I won’t let anything bad happen to you” She remembers saying after holding him in her arms for the first time.  
Sansa had hated being pregnant, mostly because she hated actually having the fertility that all of her abusers had coveted all those years ago. But the bigger reason was that the Father was lengths away and she had to ride forever to tell him the truth about their affair. He had still refused to see his son after all the letters Sansa had sent beyond the wall.  


She called in one of the wet nurses and excused herself for the day. Braiding her hair back, she informed Yohn Royce that she would be returning soon, and to conduct business as usual.  
She climbed on her horse and rode North of Winterfell, her sights set on the ruined ice wall ahead of her. It didn’t take her as long as she expected and when she arrived at the Wilding encampment beyond the wall, Tormund welcomed her with a slight bow of his head.  


“Queen Sansa, we weren’t expecting a visit” Tormund responded, before leaning in, “the Big woman, how is she faring these days?”  
Sansa perked a smile at the comment, “Ser Brienne is faring quite well Tormund, I miss her too”  


Tormund nodded, a wide smile breaking out on his face. “Our lord misses you in the same way I miss the Lady Knight. It will be good for him to see you I think”  


Sansa flashed a tight lipped thank you to the wildling before marching toward the tent she knew belonged to the man she had fallen in love with.  
“Jon?” Sansa asked, her voice trembling as she gazed around the empty tent. What if he turned her away? He refused to see his son, what if he did the same to her? She wanted to regret that night with him after she discovered he was alive after the siege, but whenever she thought of Theon, she couldn’t.  


“Sansa” His husky voice whispered, and she turned to face her cousin. “What are you doing here?”  
Sansa straightened her back and prepared herself for the conversation. “I’ve come to bring you home.”  
“Sansa, I’ve told you Bran won’t—”  
“Bran doesn’t rule the North, I do” Sansa reminded him, putting on her cold exterior, “As a result, his rulings hold no jurisdiction, especially on properties that belong to the northerners” She gave a pointed look to the Wildlings outside the tent. “As Queen in the North, I pardon you, Jon Snow, for your crimes against Daenerys Targaryen”  


She hadn’t uttered the name in a year, and she suspected Jon hadn’t either. He was looking at her with the same brooding eyes he always wore. The same expression that had permeated his face since their farewell all those months ago.  
“I don’t want to come home. I like it here.” Jon confessed. “I’m free from anything people might thrust upon me.”  


“Jon, please come home with me” Sansa echoed, remembering a similar conversation four years ago in the Lord Commander’s tower. She grasped his hand in hers and began to trace the weathered lines in his palm. “You need to see your son”  
Jon’s eyes refused to meet hers after that statement, “Is he well?”  
Sansa nodded, hoping that the child could at least knock some sense into him. Something to save the man she loved from spending the rest of his days wallowing in self-pity. “Please, Jon” She moved closer, placing her soft hand on his rugged face, her fingers scraping against the small tendrils of his beard before tucking a loose piece of hair away from his eyes.  
Jon grasped her hands in his and kissed the tops of them before retreating to the makeshift bed. “I’m tired. Of fighting, killing, all of it.”  


Sansa sat beside him and listened intently, ready to catch him if he fell.  


“All I’ve ever wanted was to be free” Jon admitted, “When I died, I thought I was. And then the Lord of Light brought me back to kill my kin. The last Targaryen come back to life, to kill the other.”  
His eyes wandered off and he clasped his hands. “The worst part of it is, I was planning on doing it the moment she threatened the North. It was always in my plans, make her fall in love with me so she’d see the error of her ways and if she didn’t…”  
A small tear ran itself down his face, and Sansa began to wrap her arms around his shoulders.  


“You had no other choice” Sansa sympathized, “She would’ve burned down Westeros to see her world reborn in ashes.”  


Jon nodded, a glaze in his eyes telling Sansa that he didn’t believe a word she was saying. “A righteous kinslayer am I? What if it had been Robb or Bran? Could you live knowing that you killed your own family for a kingdom that owes you nothing?”  
Sansa sat speechless, embracing her cousin in her arms while the wind outside howled.  


And a year later when Brienne and Robb Stark joined Theon as heirs, no one questioned the dark curls they wore upon their heads. 

 

DAENERYS TARGARYEN  
The red door shone in the Pentoshi sunlight, her white locks streaming behind her as she picked more lemons from the trees beside her house. Her wound still hurt from where…no she couldn’t think about that now. She owed Kinvara her life, and she would repay that debt by staying as far away from Westeros as she could get. Pentos wasn’t as far as she hoped, but the red door had sold her on it.  


It was the house from her dreams, with a bright yellow lemon tree beside it, and she would spend the rest of her days as a High Lady of Pentos, cleaning up whatever corruption she could. Riding Drogon provided some rare peace in her life, but on days like these where he was out hunting east, she enjoyed the simple joy of picking her own lemons and creating the fabled drink Dorne was known for. Ser Willem Darry had shown her when she was little, explaining that Queen Elia would make it for the Kingsguard whenever it grew exceedingly hot in King's Landing.  


Today was no exception, even her silken tunic did nothing to keep the blazing sun from scorching her skin.  


“Lady Missandei!” One of her servants called from the house, fear present in her voice. Daenerys turned at the mention of her fake name. She hurried into the house before joining the servant in the backyard, where Drogon lay sleeping after his hunt.  
“Yes Faera?” Dany asked, her eyebrows creasing themselves in worry  
The frail blonde’s finger shook in the direction of Drogon and Dany remembered that not all townsfolk were accustomed to the reappearance of dragons in Essos.  


“You’ve finally met Drogon,” Dany smiled, “Don’t worry, he won’t bite”  
Faera nodded nervously before continuing on with her duties. “I had no idea you were one of the few who owned a dragon”  


Daenerys’ face grew stony at that assumption. “I do not OWN him. He chose me, and I him.”  


Faera stuttered before uttering an apology, “I only met to ask where you chose him milady”  
Daenerys responded, recalling a fond memory of years ago, “He was gifted to me a long time ago,”  
Faera nodded nervously before taking her leave.  


Daenerys brought her hand up to pet the snout of her child, Drogon nuzzling her hand. She raised her gaze to the sky before climbing once more upon the back of the dragon.  
“Let’s head home” She whispered, watching as Drogon’s wings spread open wide and the last of the Dragons flew toward the east. They flew toward her home.  


Together they flew toward Valyria.


End file.
